


Possibility

by Thraceadams



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Future Fic, Gen, Hale Family Feels, Hallucinations, Hurt Stiles, Lydia Martin & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, M/M, Nemeton, POV Sheriff Stilinski, Past Melissa/Peter, Post 3a, Stilinski Family Feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-01
Updated: 2014-01-01
Packaged: 2018-01-06 23:45:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1112918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thraceadams/pseuds/Thraceadams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles is suffering the aftereffects of sacrificing himself to save his father on top of being kidnapped and tortured by the Sidhe. After giving Scott and Deaton more than enough time to fix Stiles, the Sheriff decides to take matters into his own hands. He might have threatened Peter…a lot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Possibility

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Aislinntlc for the beta work! All remaining mistakes are mine. 
> 
> Title is from Lykke Li's Possibility.
> 
> Oh and yeah, I REALLY don't own Teen Wolf. DAMN :(
> 
> Check out the really awesome Tumblr artwork that [Unightfog made for me](http://unightfog.tumblr.com/post/72223838260/derek-understands-the-darkness-stiles%22)
> 
> EDITED: (Thanks to Bleep0Bleep for use of her disclaimer)
> 
> **This work is intended for the private enjoyment of the reader. I do not give permission to this work being shared with or read aloud by the press, or anyone working on said production of Teen Wolf, including but not limited to cast, crew, writers, or producers. I also do not give permission to share this work on third-party websites such as Goodreads, which I believe is a resource intended for published works outside of fandom.**

**Possibility**

_So tell me when you hear my heart stop_  
You're the only one who knows.  
Tell me when you hear my silence.  
There's a possibility I wouldn't know

_Possibility by Lykke Li_

 

A scream tore through the air ripping John out of his sleep. For a second or two he blinked blearily into the darkness trying to make sense out of what he heard. Then it sounded again and he scrubbed his face in resignation, fumbling his way out of the bed.

He didn't bother with the light as he made his way down the hall to Stiles' room. Moonlight cast a silver glow across Stiles' bed, like a spotlight outlining the grief-filled look on Stiles' face. Without a word, the Sheriff got onto the bed, pulling his son into his arms, holding him while he sobbed.

"Shhh, Stiles, it's not real. Whatever you're seeing, it's not real. I'm here. You're safe."

John whispered the words over and over, rocking Stiles in his grip until the tension in Stiles' body finally eased up and he slid back into a fitful sleep. John stayed, holding him, long after the screams stopped.

It was almost dawn when John gently moved Stiles out of his embrace and back onto the bed. He bent down and kissed his forehead, rubbing Stiles' head. "We're gonna figure this out, kiddo, I promise. Even if I have to use every single wolfsbane bullet Chris Argent owns."

He left the room to return to his own. With barely a glance at the rumpled bed, he headed into the bathroom to shower and attempt to revive himself for the day after his sleepless night.

Twenty minutes later he was downstairs when Stiles finally made an appearance, still in his pjs.

"Not going to school today?" John tried to ask casually.

Stiles barely grunted in response. Allowing himself a sigh in response, John got down a couple of cereal bowls, filling them both with Lucky Charms. When Stiles didn't protest the sugary cereal he put in front of himself, John curled his hand into a fist.

"Stiles?"

It took several long seconds before Stiles' eyes met his.

"You can't keep doing this. Maybe, maybe we should see someone? You know? What about that woman you saw after your mom –"

"No. I'll go to school. I promise, just, I can't, okay? I just can't."

Letting out another long sigh, John nodded his head. "Okay, kid, okay. I'll drive you to school, but you're going to need to get dressed."

Fifteen minutes later Stiles was in the passenger seat of the squad car. "Got everything?"

"Yup."

The Sheriff backed out of the driveway and neither of them looked back at the Jeep left behind, covered by a tarp. Stiles hadn't driven it in months. Not since before.

When Stiles got out of the car at the school without even a glance back at him or a friendly wave at Scott who was waiting for him, John made up his mind. This had to end. He'd given Deaton and Scott more than enough time to figure this out, to fix it, to no avail. Now, it was his turn and he knew just where to go.

***************

Twenty minutes later he was knocking on the door to one of the swankier townhouses in the downtown area. The door opened and Peter Hale flashed him a smarmy grin. "Ahh, Sheriff, to what do I owe this privilege?"

Not even bothering to ask permission, John shouldered his way past Peter and into the townhouse. "I think you know."

"Young Stiles then," he shut the door and turned. "Still not doing well after his little vacation with the Sidhe?"

In a flash, John had Peter pinned up against the door, his sidearm pressed to Peter's belly. He could feel the barely restrained strength in Peter's body. "Don't even try it Hale. You may have teeth, but I have a gun with bullets that you can't heal from. So cut the devil-may-care attitude and answer my goddamn questions."

"Right," Peter grunted, swallowing hard under the arm John had across his throat. "What questions do you have?"

"How do we fix Stiles? And don't get smart, just answer me."

"What's wrong with him?"

With a sigh of frustration, John let Peter go and walked away from him, rubbing a hand across his forehead. "He's alive but he's not living. He's just going through the motions, he barely eats, he hardly sleeps and when he does he wakes up screaming." He turned back to face Peter and was surprised to see concern buried just underneath the devious glint ever-present in his eyes.

"He doesn't even respond to Scott."

Peter scoffed. "Scott was never his alpha. It was always Derek."

"But Scott's his best friend."

"Yes, but even Stiles willingly admits that Scott sucks at planning and isn't clever enough to actually lead the Pack out of danger. Scott doesn't have the darkness it takes to be a real Alpha, he couldn't roll a hard six if his mother's life depended on it. The only reason Stiles even acknowledges that Scott is an alpha now is because Derek's gone and the town has been relatively safe."

"Safe?" John raised an eyebrow. "You call being kidnapped and tortured by Sidhe for almost two weeks, safe?"

Peter shrugged. "At least he wasn't gutted by the Alphas or given the triple death by a darach, so yeah, safe. I mean, we've got that kitsune in town and who knows what she's really up to but until she makes a move, I'd say we're safe, or at least relatively so."

"Jesus," John rubbed at his forehead again. "When did this become my life? Discussing the relative safeness of the town and basing it on the level of supernatural murders happening."

He blew out a breath. "So Stiles doesn't recognize Scott as his alpha. What the hell does that have to do with what's wrong with him."

Again, Peter shrugged. "Well, it's not like Scott can order him to snap out of it."

Hope springing up in John's chest he had to ask. "Could Derek do that?"

"Anything's possible, but Derek's not an alpha anymore and since I'm fairly certain he wouldn't kill Scott to get it and Stiles would kill him if he did, he's not going to be one anytime soon. Not to mention he left town."

"Yeah, about that. I'm assuming he left a contact number with you."

Peter went quiet, his eyes flitting all over the room, looking anywhere but at John.

"Thought so. I'm going to need that number."

"Why?"

"Because if he can help my son –"

"I just told you he can't."

"No, you said it was possible if he was an alpha, you didn't say he couldn't help. And why are you so anxious to keep him out of town?" John cast a suspicious glance at Peter, his hand tightening on his sidearm again.

"You don't think the boy deserved a break? This place was nothing but hell for him, full of bad memories, bad decisions and death. Do you blame him for leaving?"

"No, I don't. But I have to think he cared about his Pack."

"His Pack is dead. Boyd, Erica, they're both dead."

"Yeah, but you aren't. Isaac isn't."

A bitter laugh slipped past Peter's lips. "Isaac belongs to Scott now."

"Stiles doesn't."

Peter just stared at him, the words _he might as well be_ left unspoken. "Look, what do you want me to do?"

"Give me Derek's number and whatever other information you have that you think could possibly help, keeping in mind, I've supplied the entire police department with wolfsbane bullets, courtesy of Chris Argent. I know there's no love lost between you and the Argents and the entire town would probably side with you over him but don't think for one minute that their pity over your history is going to help you. I'm the goddamn Sheriff and I had their pity first."

He took a breath to continue but Peter spoke first, the look in his eyes one of resignation and respect. Finally.

"Stiles was taken by the dark Sidhe. The Unseelie part of the Sidhe court. They're known for their malevolence and they have ways of getting what they want that no human being could ever truly survive. Frankly, I'm surprised, wait, no, I'm not. Stiles is a survivor, a clever boy. I honestly don't know what they do, I just know it's bad. And you're right, I can't really help you. Neither can Scott, Deaton, or even Argent."

"Well, then who can?"

"Derek."

"Why? I thought you said with him not being an alpha –"

"Because Derek was taken by the Sidhe when he was four. Talia found him four days later."

Within seconds, John had Peter pinned against the door again, this time the gun pressed to his forehead. "You knew this! You knew this all along and you didn't say anything? I oughta put a hole in your head right now. Give me one good reason why I shouldn't?"

"Because then you won't get Derek's number?" Peter responded smugly.

"And when you give it to me? What's to stop me then?"

"Because you're not a murderer."

"I could be. For my kid."

"Yes, you could be, if his life was in imminent danger. But seeing as how it's not? You're not going to shoot me, so put the gun down and I'll tell you what little bit remains and give you Derek's information."

Knowing Peter was right and hating every second of that realization, John lowered his gun and backed off. "Talk, before I change my mind."

Peter just smirked. "I don't know what happened to Derek while he was missing. I'm not that much older than him so I barely remember it. Talia was the only one that ever talked to him about it and it's quite possible that she took his memories of what happened away, just like she did with the nemeton. But there's always the chance that she didn't, because he was so young and maybe she thought he'd forget. Except Derek is a bit of a martyr, in case you hadn't noticed, so if she didn't take his memories, there's a good chance he does remember if only to use the memory to self-flagellate for some misdeed."

"How does that help Stiles?" John pushed out between clenched teeth.

"Don't know. But it's worth a call, right?"

John's shoulders slumped. Peter was right. At this point he'd go out and sacrifice small animals if it would help bring Stiles back. "Gimme the number," he ordered, making a grabby motion with his hand.

"Sure thing, Sheriff." Peter walked over to his kitchen area and grabbed a pen and paper, dashing off Derek's name and number. With a knowing grin, Peter handed John the paper. "Tell him Uncle Peter says hi."

John shot him a withering glare. "Stay out of trouble, or you may find this town very unwelcoming in the future."

"Have a nice night, Sheriff."

"You too." John grimaced, the rote reply slipping so easily off his tongue, when all he really wanted to do was punch the smug grin right off Peter Hale's face. Instead, he settled for nodding curtly and stalking off into the darkness.

*****************

John sat at his desk, the paper with Derek's number on it held between two fingers. He'd been worrying it all morning, debating what time was a good time to call. His cell phone rang and his heart kicked up several notches when he recognized Scott's number.

"Scott, everything okay?"

"Yeah, just wanted to give you an update. Lydia made sure Stiles didn't leave. He went to all his morning classes. We just finished lunch. He joined us again but never said a word and barely touched his food. Lydia even got him curly fries and he only ate a handful. I'm gonna talk to Deaton again this afternoon, see if he has anything new. I'm really sorry I can't tell you anything better."

"That's okay. Thanks for the update."

"No problem."

John ended the call and looked at Derek's number again. It only took a split second to make up his mind and then his fingers were dialing the number. Several long moments passed before the call connected and he heard ringing on the other end. His heart pounded in his chest and he wondered if Derek would be able to hear it over the phone, what he would make of it. He was so lost in his thoughts that he was startled when the phone picked up and a familiar voice said, "Hello?"

"Derek?"

"Sheriff? How? Where'd you get this number? Is Peter okay?"

"Your Uncle Peter is fine –"

"Wait, is the rest of the Pack okay, no, I would've…Stiles. Is Stiles okay?" Derek's voice went quiet.

"No. He was taken by the Sidhe –"

"What? When? How long's he been gone, I can –"

"Derek, he's home."

John heard Derek blow out a breath of what he had to describe as relief.

"When was he taken? How long did they have him?"

"He was taken two months ago. They had him almost two weeks."

"I'm gonna kill Scott."

"No. NO! Scott and Isaac were the ones that found him, that brought him home to me. They killed the Sidhe that took him, warned the rest to stay away from Beacon Hills."

There was another sigh and for once John wished he had werewolf senses because he couldn't read Derek like Stiles could. "What?"

"How's Stiles?"

"Not good. It's like he's been hollowed out, like all the joy has been sucked right out of him. Can they do that? Is that what they do? Scott never said. Are they joy suckers? What the hell happened to my son?!"

"No. Um, since you have this number, I'm assuming you talked to Peter. Tell me what he said. I'm putting you on speaker so I can pack."

His last sentence sent a wave of relief through John, so much it almost knocked his legs out from underneath him. He slumped in his chair. "I might have threatened your Uncle, told him the entire department has wolfsbane bullets."

There was a huff of laughter from Derek's end and the Sheriff cracked a smile. "He said you might have been able to help if you were an Alpha, that Scott couldn't even though he is and that if anything, you might remember something."

"Remember something?"

"Maybe we should do this in person."

"I'm thinking that's a good idea. Because you obviously have something to tell me or Peter does. Look, if I leave now, I can probably be there late this evening."

"Thanks Derek, I appreciate it."

The phone went dead in his hand, Derek not even saying goodbye before hanging up. John pressed the phone to his lips, hoping Derek would have an answer.

***************

"Stiles! Dinner." John got some plates down. Even if it was fast food they could at least eat it on plates. He doled the burgers out and dumped the large order of curly fries on the plate at Stiles' seat. "Stiles!"

John sat down and waited, finally hearing shuffling steps make their way down the stairs. He pasted on a smile as Stiles walked into the room. "Got your favorites. And I don't want to hear anything about the effect this is going to have on my arteries. We can indulge for one night."

Stiles didn't respond as he sat across from his dad and looked at the plate in front of him with a vacant expression. "Thanks."

John sighed. It was the same every night, no matter what he brought home. It made his heart ache and the food taste like fried cardboard. Forcing a smile again, he nodded at Stiles. "Well, eat up. Don't want those fries to get cold."

He took a big healthy bite of his own burger, chewing and swallowing because he had to and hoping that it wouldn't come up later. As always, Stiles picked at his food. John took the time to give him a once over just like every night for the last six weeks.

He took in the too pale skin, the moles standing out in stark contrast, the way Stiles' clothes hung limply on him, and how his collarbones were even more prominent than usual. His hair was dank and lifeless and his lips had lost their rosy hue. They were dry and pale just like the rest of him. The dark shadows under his eyes and the hollows in his cheeks made him look gaunt, a ghost of his former self.

John glanced at the clock on the wall. Seven hours. He'd hung up from Derek seven hours ago. Time couldn't move fast enough.

Stiles put down his burger, a mere three bites taken out of it. John watched as he picked up a couple of curly fries. He brought the grin back, his cheeriness faked. "Good, right? Just like you like 'em."

Stiles lips curled up in a half smile and John wanted to fist punch the air. It was the first sign of emotion he'd gotten from his son all week.

"Yeah, they're good Dad, thanks."

Watching Stiles chew the fries, he hoped that maybe, just maybe, tonight Stiles would eat the whole burger. But after about ten fries, Stiles took a final nibble at his burger and pushed his plate away. "I'm full. Thanks Dad, it was good. I'm gonna go –" he jerked his thumb upward and stood up.

"Yeah, I'm sure you've got homework you need to do."

Without another word, Stiles left the room and went back upstairs. It was all John could do to keep himself from pulling out the bottle of Jack he kept hidden in the cupboard above the fridge.

He finished his own burger, threw the rest of Stiles' in the trash and went into the living room to wait.

The doorbell rang about thirty minutes later and John jumped up, his heart pounding in his chest. The hopefulness in his chest plummeted though when he opened the door to find Scott standing under the porch light.

"Hey, Sheriff. Um, can I come in?"

"Sure, Scott, come on. You here to see Stiles?"

"Yeah, I was kinda hoping maybe if I asked him for some math help…" his voice trailed off.

"He's upstairs in his room son," John replied, "You can go on up."

"Thanks." Scott moved toward the stairs but stopped before going up. "We're gonna figure this out. Deaton said he's got some more contacts he's going to try."

John planned to ask Derek about that as well, because if Derek was taken by the Sidhe, then as the Hale Emissary Deaton should know a hell of a lot more about what's going on and why the fuck wasn't he being more help?

He went back into the living room to sit down as Scott disappeared up the stairs. The sound of murmured voices filtered down to him and as always he was grateful for Scott. Even if Stiles only gave him one-word answers, at least he was engaging. He opened the file on his lap; it was stuff Deaton had brought over right after Stiles had been rescued. It was everything he knew about the Sidhe, which to be honest, wasn't much. John hadn't gotten the chance to question Deaton's knowledge about what happened with Derek, but if Derek didn't remember he was giving him a call, regardless of the time.

By the time he had the file read again, Scott was thundering down the stairs, his eyes glowing red and there was a knock at the door. John held his hand up to Scott. "It's fine."

He opened the door and he was so happy to see Derek Hale that he only just caught himself from throwing his arms around him. Instead, he stuck out his hand for Derek to shake.

"Thanks for coming. Lemme take that bag from you," he held his hand out for the bag.

Derek looked indecisive but when a growl sounded behind John, he gave him the bag and tensed up.

"Scott! It's just Derek. He's here to help."

"Help? He left town without even glancing back." He shot accusing eyes at Derek. "You didn't even say goodbye."

John opened his mouth to say 'he did to Stiles' but thought better of it. "Look, I don't have time for your relationship dynamic issues. Peter thought he could help Stiles. So I called him."

"You called Peter?" Scott burst out angrily.

John ignored him and continued. "I called Derek. He left as soon as he could and now he's here. I would think you of all people would want Stiles fixed."

He frowned at Scott, whose eyes went back to normal and he hung his head. "Sorry, you're right." He looked up and met Derek's eyes. "You think you can help?"

Derek shrugged. "Don't know, but it's worth a try."

Scott stared at Derek for several long moments before nodding and something inside John loosened and he felt a tension he didn't even know was there releasing. "Well, now that's settled. Derek, why don't you come on in son, let's talk."

The three of them settled at the kitchen table.

"Tell me what happened. From the beginning."

It took almost thirty minutes but between John and Scott they told Derek everything, right down to the last.

"So, the Sidhe who was holding him is dead?"

"Definitely. I ripped his throat out."

John sat forward. "Derek, Peter said something –"

Derek held his hand up. "Gimme a second."

Nodding, John sat back and watched as Derek took a couple of deep breaths and then nodded his head.

"Peter said you'd been taken by the Sidhe when you were four. That they had you for four days. Do you remember that? Do you remember being taken by the Sidhe?"

A pained expression appeared on Derek's face and the grip he had on the table tightened until his knuckles turned white.  A sheen of sweat appeared on his face and his skin went pale.

"Derek?" John frowned. "Are you okay, son?"

Silently, Derek nodded.

"Do you remember?"

"I do now."

Something cold settled in John's guts upon hearing those words. "What do you mean 'I do now?'"

"Just bits and pieces, it's still hazy, but a bunch of stuff just came flooding back." He winced and John flinched, wanting to reach out a hand but not sure if it would be welcome. "Gimme a minute," Derek gasped, pressing a couple of fingers to his temples.

"Take all the time you need, son."

Scott and John sat in silence watching Derek, whose eyes were closed, brow furrowed in concentration.

"My mom, she suppressed my memories but didn't erase them. She left a trigger, in case I ever needed them."

"And something we said or did triggered them."

"Yes," Derek replied, his voice strained.

John watched him carefully, saw the fear and pain settle back into his features, realized for the first time that they'd been missing from Derek's face. It bothered him that he was the one to put them back. But it was Stiles, so he clenched his fists and pushed on.

"What do you remember?" he asked Derek gently.

Derek frowned again. "Mostly just images? But I remember the fear. That's all I felt for four days, fear and sadness, like all my worst nightmares were coming true." He finally opened his eyes and met John's gaze.

John kept his gaze steady but his heart broke at the look in Derek's eyes. His eyes were haunted with far away pain and loss and fear.

"I was four, not much worldly experience, and I'm a werewolf, so there really wasn't much I was afraid of."

"What are you saying?" John asked quietly although the sick feeling in his stomach told him he already knew.

"I can't even imagine what images they gave Stiles."

"Jesus," John sat back, scrubbing a hand over his face.

Scott frowned. "What kind of images are we talking about?"

Derek huffed out an exasperated sigh. "Think about it Scott. All the things he's seen, everything he's done, every person he's lost?"

"Claudia," John whispered. "He was alone with her when she died. I think he always thought it was his fault. He was only eight."

"Oh. OH," Scott said. "He um, he blames himself for Peter biting me."

Derek leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. "Knowing Stiles, he probably blames himself for a lot of what happened after you got the bite. Most likely he sees that as the catalyst for everything that's happened since."

Swallowing hard over the bile in his throat, John coughed and cleared his throat. "Can you help him?"

For the first time since Derek arrived his eyes gleamed with excitement and maybe just a hint of retribution. "Oh yeah. The Sidhe that kidnapped Stiles? They made an oath to my mother. Kidnapping him broke it. That's why she let me keep the memories. So I'd get them back when I needed them and I could enforce the oath. We need to get Stiles and go out to a meeting place my mother had in the woods. I'll summon the Sidhe King. And then we're going to have a little chat." He gave John a wolfish grin and tilted his head to the side, cracking his neck.

Things moved quickly then. John was having trouble keeping track. Scott called Allison and Isaac and asked them both to meet him at home, while Derek called Peter and told him to meet them at the clearing south of the nemeton. "The more people I have behind me, the better," he explained to John. Although John noted, he didn't call Lydia, Danny, or the twins.

"Um, I need to go talk to Stiles."

"Okay," John said slowly, his heart in his throat. He wasn't entirely sure how Stiles was going to react to Derek or if he would react at all. "Let me ask you, we've talked to Deaton, numerous times, he never said anything about you having been taken."

"Because he didn't know. Mom never told him. He's always been complicated. She wanted to keep it in the family so she kept him in the dark."

"Your mom was a bit secretive wasn't she?" John asked, raising his eyebrow before turning to head up the stairs.

"You have no idea," Derek muttered, following him.

John stopped outside Stiles' door. "Stiles? There's someone here to see you."

He knocked on the door before pushing it open. Stiles was in the chair at his desk, staring at the wall. His skin was pale, hands shaking and the gasp that Derek let out was like a shotgun blast in the quiet of the room.

"Stiles?" Derek asked tentatively.

John watched as his son's body stiffened and he turned slowly to look at Derek.

"Der-Derek?" His face flushed and he scrambled to get out of the chair until he was standing awkwardly behind it, his face red with embarrassment. "What are you doing here?"

"Heard there was some trouble with the Sidhe, thought I might come help."

"Oh."

John could hear the disappointment in Stiles' voice and apparently Derek did as well. He stepped forward and put his hand on Stiles' shoulder. "I'm sorry about what happened. I should have been here."

Stiles shook his head. "No, no, you and Cora, you needed to leave. We were doing all right. How is Cora by the way?"

Derek's lips curled up into a small smile. "She's doing well. We got a place down in San Diego. She really likes surfing. She has some friends down in Baja –"

"Wolfy friends?"

Derek let out a snort. "Yeah, Stiles, wolfy friends. They're good for her, us."

John watched the light in Stiles' eyes go dark again.

"Tha-That's good. I'm happy for you."

"Lie."

Stiles flicked his eyes up to Derek's face. "So."

Derek rolled his eyes. "You can do better than that."

"Yeah, well maybe I don't want to."

John heard just the tiniest bit of anger in Stiles' voice and hope started to creep into his heart.

"Not anymore." Stiles sat back down in the chair, turning his back on Derek. "I think I'm tired. It was nice seeing you though."

Except Derek didn't back down, he just moved closer, getting into Stiles' personal space, grabbing his shoulder even tighter. "Another lie and too bad. We've got things to do and you're coming with us."

John was just about to protest when Derek shook his head.

Stiles gripped the desk, his knuckles turning white. "Nope, I don't do that anymore."

"Lie. Get up. Need your help."

"You can't just come back here and boss me around and expect me to follow orders."

"And if those orders might be able to help you?"

"H-help me?" Stiles stuttered out. "H-how?"

"Come with me and find out."

Derek turned and left the room, leaving John and Stiles staring at each other.

"What have you got to lose, son?"

"Nothing, I guess," Stiles shrugged and bent down to tie his shoes. "I guess we're going with Derek."

"Guess so."

John bit the inside of his cheek both to keep a smile in check and to keep from hoping too much. Maybe _Derek_ was what Stiles needed and not just because he could bring down the son of a bitch Sidhe responsible for Stiles.

**************

The ride into the forest was quiet, Derek concentrating on the road, Stiles quiet and fidgety beside him, and John watching silently from the backseat. They were the first to arrive. John and Stiles stood to the side as Derek walked around the small clearing, sniffing the air and the different trees.

There was a small circle of rocks in the center of the clearing.

"This is where he'll show," Derek said.

John nodded and turned as he heard a car drive up. Scott got out first with Allison and Isaac following right behind him. The two of them stood anxiously beside John and Stiles while Scott moved up to talk to Derek.

"You sure about this? I mean, the last time they showed up…" his voice trailed off.

"Scott, I got this."

Peter drove up right then and Scott nodded tersely before going back to join the others. Peter got out of his car, shutting the door, a smirk on his face. "Well, well, it's just like old home week. All we're missing is the trusty Hale Emissary. But at least we have the McCall one here. Nice to see you up and about Stiles. Feeling better now that your m- alpha is back?"

Derek and Scott both growled at him and he held his hands up. "Okay, okay, you all just looked so serious."

"Peter!" Derek snarled. "Get in line or leave."

"Tsk tsk, now Derek, you know you need me here. Strength in numbers and all that."

Derek glanced over the little group, his eyes lighting on Allison, the scar on her neck. "Actually, we don't. I think an alpha's mate is much stronger than a wolf that's practically an omega."

Peter flushed, his eyes flicking quickly over to Allison and back to Derek. He took a step back and joined the others and Derek let his gaze roll over the rest of the group until he met John's. "Stiles, I need you to come join me."

"What? Me?"

"Yes. Stand behind my right shoulder about two steps back."

It came as a surprise to John to see Derek directing Stiles into what traditionally would be the place of a second. But he kept quiet. When Stiles was in position, Derek turned back to the circle of stones. He started muttering and growling, making noises and words that sounded like complete gibberish to John. Whatever he was doing must have worked though because the air in the stone circle started to shimmer and a form began to take shape.

It wasn't long before a bald man with broad shoulders, pierced nipples and tattoos covering every inch of his skin stood before them. "Who has summoned me?" he bellowed.

"Derek Hale, of the Hale Territory."

The man turned his head and glared at Derek. He looked him over very carefully. "You're not the alpha. Who is?"

Immediately John looked over to see Scott nervously raising his hand. "Um, I am, sir, your majesty."

"You're not a Hale."

"No, he isn't," Derek said. "But you didn't swear an oath to the Hale alpha, you swore an oath to the Hale pack. And by taking Stiles, you broke it."

The Sidhe raised an eyebrow. "What is a Stiles?"

"Hey!" Stiles protested from Derek's side.

"Stiles," Derek warned. John saw him jerk his head in Stiles' direction and Stiles snapped his mouth shut, stayed where he was.

"That is a Stiles and he's my - part of my pack."

There was a little growl of protest from Scott, but Isaac reached out and put a reassuring hand on his shoulder and Scott backed off even though his eyes remained red.

"The Hale pack may be smaller than it once was but it's still around, and that means you broke your oath."

"That one," the Sidhe jerked his head toward Scott, "killed a member of my court."

"Yes –" Scott shouted out.

"Scott!" Derek growled, his eyes flashing blue.

To John's and most likely everyone else's surprise, Scott shut his mouth.

"Yes, he killed a member of your court because that member kidnapped and tortured a member of my pack. An important member. I demand restitution."

"I don't owe you anything."

"You owe my mother!" Derek shouted.

The Sidhe flinched. "She promised," he whispered fearfully. "She gave me her word she would never tell."

"You mean tell anyone that she saved your daughter and her human boyfriend from a group of hunters? And that two weeks later you repaid her by letting one of your court kidnap her youngest son? Hold him for four days making him relive his worst nightmares over and over?"

"Yes, how –" his eyes grew big. "You're him."

"That's right. I'm him. I'm the four-year old your people took, the four-year old that had screaming nightmares for weeks after my return. She didn't have to tell me because I was there. And now I'm here. To make sure you not only make up for breaking your oath, but make a new one. To me."

The Sidhe bowed his head. "Tell me what I can do, Alpha Hale."

"You can start by removing any remaining vestiges of your loathsome magic on my m- pack member, Stiles. Then you're going to swear a new oath. One that states that your people will never harm any member of the Hale or the McCall packs of Beacon Hills or you will forfeit your right to this territory. Forever."

Peter made a small noise behind them and John watched as Derek balled one hand into a fist in obvious frustration.

"So let it be done," The Sidhe intoned before launching into a rather lengthy speech in what John had to assume was his native language.

Glancing around surreptitiously, John noticed that Derek, Stiles, and Peter were following the Sidhe's words intently. It made him wonder just what else Stiles knew that he'd been hiding all these years.

When the Sidhe finished, Derek nodded his head and turned to face the rest of the pack. "The Sidhe has spoken. He has vowed to always protect our packs, vowed that if the oath is broken we have blood rights and the right to force them to leave our territory. If anyone has any objections voice them now because once the oath is acknowledged, it's permanent."

He waited for a beat and when no objections came, he nodded his head. "As it's been vowed, so may it be." He held up his hand, indicating for everyone to join in with him. John opened his mouth and repeated the words with Derek and he felt something pop in the air around him.

"The oath is set. Now, heal Stiles." Derek reached out and snagged Stiles' wrist and dragged him closer to the Sidhe.

Stiles made a small moan of protest and Derek's grip on his wrist loosened. "Stiles, he's going to make those images stop. Trust me."

John watched as Stiles looked up at Derek. "Promise?"

His heart clenched at the broken tone in Stiles' voice.

"I promise."

Stiles stared at Derek for a long moment before nodding and John watched with relief as Stiles let himself be drawn closer to the Sidhe King.

"Very well."

The Sidhe reached out and cupped his huge hands on Stiles' cheeks, spoke some sort of incantation so low it was inaudible to all but the werewolf ears because John only saw his lips moving. Gradually though, it increased in volume and decibel until Scott was clinging to both Allison and Isaac in an attempt to shield his ears.

John winced as the incantation pierced his ears, causing knife like pain to stab through his head and then as suddenly as it started it was gone. He looked up to see Stiles slumped against Derek.

"The images we've given him will plague him no more. I can do nothing about the images that belong to him and him alone." He bowed his head again. "If I can be of any assistance in the future, Alpha Hale, you need only to ask."

With those last few words and a brief nod of thanks from Derek, the air shimmered around the king and he disappeared.

"We should get Stiles home," Derek said firmly, picking Stiles' unconscious form up into his arms and heading for the cars.

******************

Derek carried Stiles into the house and with John's help they got him settled into his bed. John stood in the doorway, watching him for several minutes until Derek gently placed a hand on his shoulder. "Let's go back downstairs, I'll hear if he starts to get restless."

"Right, okay." John followed Derek down the stairs and sat at the kitchen table while Derek moved around and made tea.

Speechless, John watched Derek's movements, sure and confident, never once having to ask where anything was and before he knew it, a steaming hot mug of peppermint tea with just a touch of honey was sitting in front of him.

"You made tea."

His cheeks flushing, Derek shrugged. "Cora likes it. Been kinda making up for lost time."

"But you made tea here."

"Stiles likes it too."

And that was brand new information to John. He didn't know Stiles liked tea let alone that they actually had some at the house. It wasn’t until Derek sat down with his own mug that John started wondering just how Derek knew where everything was.

"So," Derek started. "We need to talk."

"I expect we do," John answered.

"Stiles isn't going to –"

"How did you –"

"You go first, sir," Derek said, taking a sip of his tea.

"How did you know where everything was?"

"Stiles likes tea."

"You said that."

Derek just stared back at him, sipping his tea.

"So you've made Stiles tea. Here. In our kitchen."

When Derek just nodded John tried to let his brain process that information without jumping to too many conclusions. "It sounded like Peter was going to say something, was he?"

"Peter is an ass and likes to have his hand in everything. He probably had some self-serving thing he wanted to add."

"Huh." John thought about that. It made sense. In the few months Derek had been gone, it had become very clear to him that Peter Hale was out for Peter and nobody else. So he was willing to let it drop. For now. He waved his hand. "What were you going to say?"

"Stiles isn't going to get better overnight. What I said to the Sidhe King was true. I had screaming nightmares for weeks after I was found. His own mind is going to be the one torturing him now, but slowly, with help, he should get better. We just need to be patient with him."

Derek had barely finished speaking when a scream tore through the air. Both men shoved their chairs away from the table and scrambled up the stairs. Derek made it to Stiles' room first. John stood in the doorway watching as Derek sat down on the bed, smoothing his hand over Stiles' forehead and into his hair.

"It's not real Stiles. You're dreaming. You need to wake up."

Stiles stopped screaming, stopped bowing his body off the bed in pain, but his whimpers remained.

"Stiles. Stop. Now." Derek growled, his eyes flashing blue.

John took a step forward, thinking he needed to step in and suddenly Stiles went quiet. He pushed into Derek's touch and slid back into a more restful sleep. Derek sat with him for a good twenty minutes with John standing in the doorway until they were both sure Stiles was asleep again before they quietly left the room and went back downstairs.

Puzzled, John followed Derek into the kitchen. "I don't think I've ever seen him respond like that, to anyone. Not even me."

Derek took a sip of his tea and set it back down on the table, watching John.

"Is it because he's a member of your pack? Or is it something more? And why yours? Why not Scott's? I mean, no offense son, but he and Scott have been ScottandStiles since they learned how to talk."

"Why would he pick me?" Derek asked flatly.

Guilt pricking at him, John shrugged helplessly. Derek took a deep breath and another large swig of his tea. "Stiles is in my pack because he doesn't see Scott as an alpha. Not because he chose me over Scott. Stiles has always seen himself as the brains of the Scott and Stiles show. With that kind of an attitude he literally cannot recognize Scott as his Alpha, not as long as he thinks he could make better decisions."

"But – "

"Why would he pick me when I've made some of the shittiest decisions ever?"

"Yes, sorry, but yes."

"Because I've saved his life? Because he's saved mine? Because he recognizes that I have the ability to make the tough calls, to do the right thing even if it means…"

"Pissing someone off or losing them," John finished quietly.

"Yeah, or killing them. Scott would rather save everyone, including those that may not want to be saved or can't be. He sees the good in everybody and as much as I would like to believe everyone has some good –"

"You've seen enough to know that some people aren't redeemable."

"Exactly. I'm still worried Deucalion is going to come back and bite us in the ass. And the twins?" Derek shuddered and John remembered what Stiles had told him about the twins.

"Stiles told me."

Derek looked up at him sharply.

"What happened with Boyd, I’m real sorry son. You know it's not your fault, right?'

"I was his Alpha. I was supposed to protect him and instead I killed him."

"NO!" John hated the resignation and acceptance in Derek's voice. "What happened was not your fault. _They_ killed that boy. Not you."

"It was my decision to make a stand. I told them to go back to school. To run."

"But from what Stiles told me it was Boyd who planned the whole water and electricity thing, right?"

"Yes."

Things slotted into place and more than anything John wanted to take Derek in and protect him from the world and himself. He frowned. "When you say 'make the tough calls,' you mean sacrifice yourself for the safety of others. For your pack. Like what you did for your sister. What you were going to do for Boyd and Isaac that night. Like leaving town because you think everyone is better off without you."

He knew he hit the nail on the head when Derek shrank in on himself. But then he watched as Derek stiffened his shoulders and then shrugged. "I guess, yeah. I mean, I’m not saying Scott wouldn't do that, but he's a little self-absorbed at times. Until he became a 'true Alpha' he didn't even want to be a werewolf. In fact, he railed against it, loudly and often. And yet here he is, the 'true Alpha' making decisions and doing things without fully appreciating the consequences. I understand the twins have a rough past, but -" Derek shook his head in disgust.

John huffed. "That actually makes sense. I love Scott McCall as if he were my own, but you have a point. Especially lately, first it was the Argent girl and more recently it's been the Lahey boy. He's a typical teenage boy with his head in the clouds and his decisions following whichever way the wind blows."

His hand tightened on his mug before he continued. "Stiles agrees with you about the twins. He's told Scott in no uncertain terms they aren't welcome in this house and he refuses to go to any pack meetings they attend. Scott has taken to having separate meetings for the humans. I think Stiles and Lydia have agreed to disagree and simply don't talk about it at all. You mentioned Stiles being the brains, that's not really news to me," he let out a wry laugh. "Melissa and I have always known Stiles was the brains of their operation. It's why whenever she has to ground Scott she tells him 'No Stiles' because she knows it'll shut down all their shenanigans for a while."

A snort of laughter escaped Derek and John watched in amusement as the tips of his ears turned red.

"No Stiles. Wonder if that would work on all the betas."

John couldn't help himself, all the stress, the relief and then 'No Stiles' a burst of laughter slipped out and suddenly he couldn't stop. He laughed so hard his stomach hurt and tears streamed down his face. When he finally calmed down, he was pleased to see Derek had joined him in the laughter and now both of them were gasping for breath.

"Thank you," John said, when he had his breath back. "Thank you for coming and summoning the king and fixing Stiles."

"Well, we're not out –"

"I know, but at least now it's just the stuff that was already in his head and not stuff someone is feeding him."

He took a look at the time. "We should probably head to bed. Oh, um, where are you staying? We've got a spare bedroom, I'd – I'd really appreciate it if you stayed here. I mean, for Stiles. He seems to respond to you, for whatever reason."

"Thanks. I'm just glad I could help."

"Great." John stood up, took their mugs to the sink and rinsed them before turning back to Derek. "Let me show you that spare room." He knew there was something more going on, but figured Derek or Stiles would tell him in time.

*****************

John had just fallen asleep when a scream sounded from Stiles' room. He stumbled out into the hallway and was just about to enter the room when he stopped. He could hear voices murmuring so he listened, quietly.

"Stiles. It's not real. Come on, come back to me."

It was Derek's voice. It took all of John's willpower not to push the door open any farther; he really wanted to see what was happening. But he would have to settle for just listening because it sounded like Derek had it under control.

Stiles stopped screaming and there weren't even any whimpers, just the sound of Derek's voice, soothing his son, calming him down until John almost fell asleep himself. Satisfied that Stiles was in good hands he made his way back to his own bed.

It happened three more times before morning came.

When John got downstairs, he found Derek standing by the stove scrambling some eggs and frying bacon. Stiles was seated at the table, a scowl on his face.

"I'm not going," he said petulantly.

"Yes, you are. You've gone to school with much less sleep and you've missed too much school already. You're going."

"You're not my dad."

"Nope, but I'm pretty sure he'd tell you to go too. Except I'll be able to stick around to make sure you don't skip."

"I'm calling Scott."

"Go right ahead. He's not your alpha and he's not mine."

Stiles stuck his tongue out at Derek and dialed Scott.

"I don't feel like going to school today. Can you talk to my teachers and get my homework?"

John watched as Derek grabbed the phone out of Stiles' hand. "Stiles _is_ going to school so you will _not_ talk to his teachers or get his homework." He clicked the phone off and slid it into his back pocket before turning back to the stove.

"Asshole."

Derek just shrugged but John could see the tension in his shoulders and wondered what had started this whole thing. Not another word was said as Derek served eggs, bacon, and toast to both of them, with a glass of milk and another of orange juice. He sat down to join them and grunted at Stiles. "Eat up."

"Fuck you."

"Stiles!" John spoke up and instantly Stiles' cheeks flushed red with embarrassment.

"Sorry," he muttered sullenly before stabbing at the eggs on his plate.

He must have been hungry because he cleaned his plate and John had to bite his tongue because it was the most he'd seen Stiles eat in weeks. He shot a pointed look at Derek who just stared back at him impassively.

"Okay kiddo, I think I'm gonna let Derek get you to school." John stood up and carried his plate over to the sink, rinsed it off before clapping Derek on the shoulder and kissing Stiles on the head. "Have a good day, boys."

It was about three hours later when Derek showed up at the station and was directed back to John's office.

"Everything okay?"

"Yes sir. Stiles is in school, Lydia promised to make sure he stays there. I told her I'd be there after to pick him up."

"You were good with him this morning. Didn't coddle him."

"Yeah, well, I don't think coddling is what he needs. He's had that for the last two months. No offense, sir."

John held up his hands. "None taken. Thank you."

"You're welcome. I'm going to talk to Scott, not sure how much good it will do."

"That's all I can ask," John replied.

Derek nodded and stood up. "Still okay if I crash at your place tonight?"

"You can stay as long as you like, dinner's at six-thirty."

"I'll be there."

John nodded as Derek walked out of his office and he returned to his paperwork.

*****************

He got his normal lunchtime phone call from Scott.

"Scott."

"Sheriff."

"How's Stiles?"

"About the same. Not eating much, not talkative. We're trying to engage him like always, but I'll be honest, not much is changed. I thought after Derek…" his voice trailed off.

"But he's going to class?"

"Yup, I'll make sure of it."

"Thank you."

John ended the call and rubbed a finger over his lips, thinking. The Pack was coming over for dinner this evening. It was a thing. He'd have to see if what he was thinking was true. In the meantime, his paperwork wasn't going to finish itself.

A few hours later though and John had to call it quits. He hadn't gotten nearly as much of his paperwork and phone calls done as he needed to because his mind kept wandering back to Stiles. Which wasn't really any different from any other day lately, except now he had hope.

He shut his computer down, grabbed his jacket and said goodbye to his deputies before hopping in his squad car and heading home. He almost turned around and went back when he saw what greeted him in the kitchen.

Derek was standing at the stove stirring a pot and Stiles had his arms crossed and was staring stonily at his back, glaring really.

"Boys."

"Sheriff," Derek said, turning around.

"He can't stay here," Stiles started.

John raised an eyebrow at his son and didn't miss the way Derek's shoulders stiffened. "Oh? And why's that?"

"Did you send him to pick me up from school? To be some sort of homework police? I'm seventeen, I don't need someone standing over me making me do my homework."

"Yeah, you do." Derek turned around, anger coloring his features. "I talked to Isaac. He said you moped around all day, barely said two words to anyone, mouthed off to your science teacher and begged Lydia to do your homework. That's not the Stiles I knew."

"Yeah, well the Stiles you knew was kidnapped and tortured for two weeks."

Derek flinched but didn't back down. "That's not my fault."

"Really? Because maybe if you hadn't skipped town, it wouldn't have happened!" Stiles shouted.

"All right, that's enough!" John said firmly. "Derek is a guest in this house and whether you like it or not, he saved your life. You will treat him with respect."

"Whatever," Stiles retorted. "I'm going to my room."

John opened his mouth to speak but Derek beat him to it, his eyes flashing blue. "You go to your room, you don't eat."

Stiles turned and gaped at Derek, his mouth opening and closing several times before he sat back down at the table, shooting daggers at Derek with his eyes. John was about to say something but caught the pleased tilt to Derek's lips as he turned back to whatever he was cooking on the stove so he kept quiet.

"Stiles, why don't you set the table," Derek asked softly.

Stiles grumbled lowly for several minutes but finally got up to do as Derek asked, much to John's surprise.

It wasn't too long after that the Pack stared arriving. Lydia was first, she bent down and kissed Stiles on the cheek and then wiped her lipstick off with her thumb. Stiles barely even acknowledged her. Scott, Allison, and Isaac were next, Scott with apologies from his mom and also Danny. Ethan and Aiden weren't invited so Danny felt obligated to stay behind. There wasn't even a tiny flash of guilt in Stiles' eyes when Scott explained Danny's absence, but then there never was.

The meal was rowdy, as always, but Stiles was conspicuously silent despite Scott and everyone else trying to engage him in conversation. Derek shot Stiles several inquisitive and possibly annoyed glances but Stiles ignored him.

Before Derek even had a chance to serve dessert, Stiles pushed away from the table. "I'm kinda tired, I'm gonna –" he jerked his head upstairs.

Scott and everyone else jumped up and gave him hugs, told him they'd see him tomorrow. John just jutted his chin out at Stiles, who jerked his chin back and turned to the stairs.

"Stop." Derek's voice rang through the room.

Stiles' step faltered.

"You never skip dessert. And you're not tired. That was a lie and I know I’m not the only one that heard it."

"Derek, just let it go, come on, dude," Scott pleaded.

"Yeah, Derek, it's all right," Allison agreed. "Stiles probably needs his rest."

Throwing his napkin down on the table, Derek stood up. "He's been 'resting' for almost six weeks. He doesn't need rest. He needs to engage and he can't do that if you keep letting him get away with hiding."

John wiped his mouth with his napkin, wondering whether he should jump in and say something. He could see the tense way Stiles was standing, the loose-limbed stance he'd had earlier gone.

"He's not hiding, Derek! They had him for two weeks! He was just healed yesterday. Okay? He's not going to get better overnight! He needs time," Scott argued, moving closer to Derek.

"He _is_ hiding and you're right. He's not going to get better overnight. Nobody's expecting him to, but he's not going to get better if you all keep treating him like he's fragile. He's not a fucking piece of glass!"

"That's funny coming from you," Scott snarled. "You always used to tell us to make sure Stiles was safe, remind us just how human he was. Well, the Sidhe gave us a big fucking reminder, one we aren't ever going to forget. So excuse me if we treat him like the fragile human he is."

John watched as Derek's eyes flicked over to Stiles and back to Scott. "He's not going to break. He's back and out of danger so why do you keep treating him like he's not?"

"Because he's not healed yet! ARGH, this was why you were such a shit alpha! You don't understand!"

"Really? Because who else in this room was ever taken by the Sidhe? Anyone?" he looked around. "Didn't think so. If anyone understands what he's going through, it's me."

"Well, what he went through –"

"SHUT UP!" Stiles yelled. "Shut up! Stop talking about me like I’m not even here! Get out. All of you. You have no idea what I went through, what I'm _still_ going through, so…Get. Out."

Everyone stared at Stiles in shocked silence. John opened his mouth to speak and Derek shook his head quickly.

"GET OUT! NOW!" Stiles yelled again.

With a slight nod of Derek's head, everyone scrambled to comply. There were quick shouts of goodbyes and a brush of lips on John's face from Allison and Lydia and then silence. When the door shut, Stiles stomped up the stairs and slammed his door.

After a long moment, John stood up to clear the table. "Well, that went well."

"I think it did."

"What?"

"I was right. Stiles has been hiding. He doesn't want to face the nightmares they showed him, now that he's not buried in them. But he'll never get better if he doesn't and he can't get better if we keep letting him hide. He needs to start living again."

"What do you think he's not facing?"

"My guess? Losing you and everyone he cares about. If he doesn't engage, he doesn't care. If he doesn't care then when it does happen, it won't hurt as much."

"You sound like you know exactly what he's going through," John said softly.

"Yeah, well…" Derek's voice trailed off.

John's heart clenched at the thought of everything Derek had lost, both what he knew about and things he only suspected. "Wh-" he cleared his throat. "What helped you?"

Derek shrugged. "Family, Laura, the Pack," he turned to look at John. "Stiles."

"Hmmm," John replied. "You and he are connected somehow, aren't you?"

Slowly, Derek nodded.

"But you're not ready to tell me about it and he's definitely not ready to talk about it either." John just pressed his lips together. "Well, whatever you're doing, keep it up. That's the most emotion I've seen him display in over two months. This might be good for both of you."

He left Derek to the dishes and went into the den to read the paper and maybe relax for the first time in months.

**************

John jerked awake, the newspaper long forgotten in his lap. He scrubbed a hand over his face as he tried to figure out what woke him up besides the crick in his neck and the darkness of the house. Then he heard it. Angry voices upstairs.

He shoved the newspaper off his lap and took the stairs two at a time. Not caring that both boys could hear him. He stopped just outside Stiles' door, just in time to see Derek shove Stiles against a wall, arm braced across the base of his throat, eyes flashing blue.

John's heart was in his throat and he found himself reaching for a gun that wasn't there. That was his son Derek was threatening.

"Pushing me into walls? Tired, Derek, old and tired. Is what they say really true? That you really can't teach an old dog new tricks?"

John winced at Stiles' words. His boy could wound with the best of them that was for sure.

"How's that pouting and feeling sorry for yourself working out?"

"Fuck you!" Stiles spat at Derek.

"Yeah, well fuck you too! You think you're the only person that's ever lost anyone? The only person ever afraid of losing what little bit they have left? The only person that has the kind of nightmares that would give monsters nightmares? Wrong. You're looking at the founding member of that club, so get over yourself Stiles."

"You're one to talk. You ran! You took off. You left us with barely a goodbye. You didn't even leave a number! What the hell? We needed you. _I_ needed you. Because apparently only you have a penchant for saving my ass when it needs saving. And now even my nightmares have nightmares, so thank you, thank you for that. As if my life wasn't terrifying enough."

"You can't just sit in this room staring at your wall forever, because that's not living and you know it."

"You don't get to tell me what to do!"

Derek's eyes flashed again and John watched as Stiles swallowed, his Adam's apple moving up and down.

"You don't, you can't –" he stuttered as Derek's eyes stayed blue. "Fuck you. Just fuck you, Derek." He slumped forward, his head resting against Derek's shoulder.

"I can't do this," Stiles whispered, his voice broken and the hand clenching John's heart squeezed hard enough to crush it.

"I can't look at everyone and be happy, not after…" he shuddered, his fingers digging into Derek's back, grabbing handfuls of his shirt and twisting them. "Everything I've done, everything I've seen," he whispered.

"You don't have to be happy," Derek said softly, his hand reaching up and grabbing the back of Stiles' neck. "But you have to live. The sadness? The despair? It will go away, I promise." He drew back, hands on either side of Stiles' neck. "Have I ever lied to you?"

Stiles shook his head and Derek pulled him back into an embrace. "I promise it will go away. But you have to live, you have to go out and do things and fill those dark places with other things. It's not going to happen over night, it'll take time, but it _will_ happen. I promise."

"Okay, Derek," Stiles said softly. "Okay."

With those words, something inside John let go and the hand squeezing his heart let up. Derek shot him a glance and John nodded, mouthed 'thank you' and left the two of them alone.

He went back downstairs and poured himself a drink. His phone buzzed. The caller ID said Chris so he answered it.

"How you holding up?"

"Been better."

"Figured as much. Want grab a drink?"

John looked at the drink in his hand. "Got one."

"Drinking alone?"

"Not alone, boys are upstairs."

"Well, how 'bout I come over anyway."

"Suit yourself."

He ended the call and took a sip of the scotch, enjoying the burn all the way down to his stomach. The friendship he had with Chris was tenuous at best. They'd bonded when Jennifer had them almost buried alive. And Melissa had gone out to dinner with Peter Hale. John _really_ wasn't sure about that one, but Melissa was a grown woman. He thought it probably had more to do with her ex-husband staying in town then actual interest in dating Peter Hale because it had only been the one time. But still, it _was_ Peter.

Halfway through his scotch, there was a knock on the door. He got out another tumbler before going to answer it.

"Argent," he stepped aside to let the other man inside.

"Sheriff," Chris returned the greeting and followed him into the kitchen. He poured another tumbler of scotch and raised his glass. Chris followed suit and they both drank.

"So, I hear Hale is back in town."

"Yup. I called him."

Chris immediately sobered. "How is Stiles?"

"Derek's pushing him. Maybe a bit too fast, I don't know, but he's showed more emotion since Derek got here then he's shown –"

"Since the Sidhe took him?"

"Yeah," John took another drink. It was still hard to believe, all the shit going down in this town, and most of it right under his nose.

"It's tough having a kid in this business," Chris mused, taking his own drink. "I thought we were getting out –"

"And she dragged you back in?"

"Kicking and screaming," he smiled ruefully. "But she was right. What Jennifer did…" his voice trailed off.

"What was done to her was just as bad," John replied.

"Still doesn't excuse it."

"Nope." John sipped at his scotch again. "Derek's a good kid." The 'despite everything in his past' was heavily implied.

Chris had the grace to wince before taking another large swallow. "Kinda hard to make up for other people's sins, but we're doing our best."

"That's all anyone can ask," John reassured him.

"So Derek's good for him?" Chris' eyes flitted up to the ceiling and back.

"Yeah, the rest of them are molly-coddling him. Not sure that's what he needs right now. Before? Yeah. Now? Not so much. I mean, I know there wasn't some magical switch flipped," he paused. "Huh, I guess there was, but ahh, I think you know what I mean. Now that the only torture he's going through is what he does to himself, maybe it's good he's got Derek here."

"Yeah," Chris let out a bitter laugh. "The King of Pain himself. If anyone knows how to end the cycle of beating yourself up over mistakes it would be Derek."

"But did he really ever end it?"

"I thought that's why he left town. Wasn't that why he left with Cora, to finally get out of this hellhole that ended up being so godawful for his family?" The _because my family almost hunted his to extinction_ left conspicuously out.

John shrugged, taking another swallow. "I guess. I think it's a bit more complicated than that but he's back now…"

Chris set his glass down. "Then Allison and I will pay our respects and hope he's amenable to letting us work with him and maybe someday, he can list this generation of Argents as an ally instead of an enemy."

"Both of you have a long road ahead of you."

"Don't I know it," Chris let out a rueful laugh this time.

"Give him time," John said, echoing Derek's words. "You never know. The capacity to forgive is without limits sometimes." He couldn't help but think about Lydia staying with Aiden and Danny staying with Ethan despite what happened.

"You're thinking about the twins aren't you?"

"Yeah. Stiles won't go near them."

"From what Allison tells me, he has good reason not to. How's Derek going to deal with them staying in town?"

"Decidely against it and I don't blame him. Not after what they did."

"Well, I know for a fact Allison agrees. It's a definite sore spot between her and Scott. She's been hanging out with the Lahey kid a lot lately."

"They're probably good for each other," John mused. "Wait, I thought Scott…"

"He does, but Allison tells me it's just werewolf stuff between them. Or at least that's what she hopes." Chris said. "I agree that she and Isaac are good for each other so I hope she's right."

A door closed upstairs and feet sounded on the stairs. Both men looked up to see Derek coming in. "He's asleep."

John let out a breath. "Good. Join us for a drink? I know it won't have any affect on you, but it's a pretty damn good scotch, you can at least enjoy the taste."

Warily, Derek looked at Chris, who raised his glass. For a brief moment, John thought Derek was going to refuse, but then he pulled out a chair and sat down.

"John tells me you're helping Stiles. How long you planning on staying?"

Derek shifted uncomfortably in his chair. John leaned forward to say something but stopped when Derek shook his head.

"Don't know. As long as I'm needed, maybe longer, I guess."

"Hmmm," Chris mused. "Where's your little sister?"

"Why do you care so much?" Derek asked testily.

Again, John opened his mouth to say something, anything, but Chris just plowed on. "It's just, Allison, she's been hunting, at night. All the time now. She thinks I don’t know, she's been hiding it from Scott. And Isaac. She's good at that, but she can't hide it from me. Not when I used to do the same thing. This is different though. It's like she can't stop doing it." He looked up from where he'd been worrying the napkin between his fingers. "What do I do? Can you help her?"

Derek huffed out a bitter sounding laugh and John clenched his fist on his thigh.

"Is this what we do now? Help each other? How does Allison feel about that?"

This time Chris edged forward. "I'd like it to be and I know Allison would too. I don't suppose anyone told you about the new Code?"

"Sorry, been kinda busy trying to help Stiles survive. Which by the way, how the hell did you all let him get kidnapped by the Sidhe? Where the hell were all of you?"

Chris' face went red. "I don't know. I didn't find out until after. Allison, she was crying, shoving Scott away from her and this was _after_ she was stupid enough to let him give her a mating bite." He shook his head. "Those two are so on again, off again, I can't believe they did that."

"Especially since she's with Isaac now," Derek said softly.

"Wait… oh, never mind." Chris' face colored more. "Their scents."

Nodding slowly, Derek took another sip of his scotch. "It's part of why the Sidhe refused to help until I showed up. She's not a true Alpha's mate, not if she has another's scent all over her. So she and Scott weren't enough to make them comply. It's why I had to invoke the Hale name."

"That's what I figured," Chris said, shifting back in his chair.

"Look, I'll talk to her about the hunting thing. You think it has anything to do with –" he gestured up the stairs.

This time John did speak up. "Probably. Deaton warned them. Before. Said what they were doing was going to leave a mark on them, a darkness in their hearts."

"Yeah, except somehow, Scott, the True Alpha, escaped it. No hint of darkness for him," Chris interjected bitterly, taking a drink of his own scotch.

Derek looked over at John. "Is that true?"

John spread his hands in a 'what can you do' gesture. "Yes? I mean, Stiles hasn't been the same since the Sidhe took him. But even before that I would come home and he'd be sitting at his desk, staring at the wall, almost catatonic. It just got worse after the Sidhe took him. Instead of a couple of screaming nightmares a week, it was a couple a night. I have to threaten him to get him to eat. I have his friends spying on him at school, making sure he's there and not skipping. And now Chris tells us Allison is hunting? When she doesn't need to? What's Scott doing?"

"A big fat nothing," Chris retorted.

"Don't get me wrong, I love the kid as if he were my own, but why is it that it's our two kids paying the price while he gets off with nothing?"

Before anyone could say anything else, Derek pushed his chair back so hard it fell over and bolted toward the stairs. Just as he reached the top step, a scream from Stiles' room shattered the silence.

John shoved his chair back and raced up the stairs, Chris hot on his heels. He slowed as he got to Stiles' door, stood and watched as Derek pulled Stiles into an embrace.

"Shh, it's not real. Whatever you saw, didn't happen. It's just your mind."

The hot rush of tears behind John's eyes threatened to spill down his cheeks at the sight of Stiles' hands clenched in the fabric of Derek's t-shirt. He was holding on so tightly his knuckles had gone white. "Promise?" he choked out.

"I promise, Stiles."

The hitching cries stopped and Derek flicked his eyes up to John. John stared at him for several long moments before giving him a quick nod and backing away from the door. With Chris right behind him, he wasn't going to stay outside and listen, his son deserved at least that much privacy. As well as Derek.

He jerked his head at Chris and went back downstairs into the kitchen where he poured them both a second drink.

"Is that what it's been like?" Chris asked quietly.

"Yeah. Ever since he got back. Except I've never been able to get the screaming to stop. It always seemed to ease up on its own after running its course. But Derek, Derek gets it to stop. So as far as I'm concerned? Derek can stay here for as long as he wants. I'm not even going to mention the fact that in the few days Derek's been here, Stiles has shown more emotion then in the entire six weeks he's been back."

"Wow," Chris exhaled, rubbing a hand over his face. "Do you think it's his Alpha powers?"

"He doesn't have those anymore. Lost them when he saved Cora right before Scott became Alpha."

"And yet he still came back when you called," Chris mused.

John narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean?"

Chris shrugged. "Normally it's only Alphas that feel connected to an abandoned pack member. Some part of Derek must still see himself as Stiles' Alpha."

The words _or his mat_ e went left unsaid by both of them. They hung in the air, just as if they'd been spoken. It was something John had suspected for a while. It wasn't surprising that Chris picked up on it so easily. As he took another swallow of his scotch, he wondered just how long Derek and Stiles would ignore it, before finally acknowledging the truth most of them suspected.

It was thirty minutes before Derek came back down the stairs to join them. Wordlessly, John handed him another tumbler of scotch which Derek accepted and immediately took a long swallow.

When he finished, he set it down on the table and looked Chris in the eyes. "I'll talk to Allison, if she's willing to talk to me."

A grateful look washed over Chris' face. "Thank you."

The three of them sat silently for ten minutes or so before Chris finished his scotch and stood up. "I should go." He glanced at John. "Call me, you know, if you need anything." Turning his gaze to Derek, he gave him an encouraging grin. "And thank you, you know, for offering to talk to Allison. I'll let her know, have her get in touch with you."

John got up to walk him to the door and was surprised when Chris pulled him into a hug. Awkwardly, he patted Chris on the back.

"I'm really sorry this happened to Stiles. I hope Derek can help him."

"Me too."

"Good night, John."

"Night, Chris."

********************

_So tell me when my sorrow's over_  
You're the reason why I'm closed  
Tell me when you hear me falling.  
There's a possibility it wouldn't show.

_Possibility – Lykke Li_

John got out of his car and immediately heard the raised voices coming from inside his house. His hand was on his holster before he registered that the voices were Derek and Scott. He let go of his gun, shut his door and slowly walked up the front path. He hesitated when he saw Stiles sitting on the step outside.

"Stiles?"

Stiles looked up at him with miserable eyes. "Mom and Dad are fighting about me again."

With a sigh, John sat down next to his son and placed a reassuring hand on his knee. "They both want what's best for you. We all do. It's just –"

"Derek knows how I feel," he said softly before looking up and meeting John's eyes. "How'd you know to call him?"

John was silent for a moment. "I didn't. I just hoped. He was kind of a last resort." He let his eyes wander across the yard to the tree just outside Stiles' window. "I know we've had our ups and downs and life has dealt us a pretty rough hand. But we were doing okay, weren't we? I mean, before?"

He caught Stiles' nod out of the corner of his eye. "I just – I didn't know what else to do. Nothing was helping. You were so buried in your head. You just sat in your desk chair all the time, staring at nothing. You woke up screaming so many times every night that neither of us was really sleeping. I figured if anyone might be able to help, it might be him. So I tracked down Peter."

Stiles glanced up at him sharply.

"We will never speak of it. But I convinced him to give me Derek's number." John focused his gaze back on Stiles. "Son, he never even questioned my request. Just told me how soon he'd be here."

He watched Stiles' cheeks pink up as he looked away.

"Tell me I did the right thing?" he asked quietly, hating the vulnerable tone in his voice. "You know, when children are born, they don't come with an instruction manual. The hospital hands you this little being, says 'good luck' and sends you on your way. Suddenly you find yourself completely responsible for another human being and most of the time you worry that you're going to screw something up so bad…" his voice trailed off.

Stiles grabbed the hand resting on his knee and linked their fingers together. "You didn't screw up Dad." His voice sounded choked.

"Derek's helping right? I mean you seem a little better. You're eating, you're not sitting in that chair anymore. You're even arguing with him. With me. I mean, I know you're not 'better', that it's going to be a while, if ever. But is he? Are things a little better?"

Squeezing his hand, Stiles brought he free hand up to wipe a stray tear off his cheek, nodding in assent. "Yeah," he sniffled, wiping his nose. "Things are better. The nightmares aren't so bad anymore and I don't feel the crushing weight of failure all the time."

John's heart broke at those words and he pulled Stiles' into an embrace. "Oh son, you're not a failure. Anything but and if we have to we'll keep telling you that until we can't talk anymore, whatever it takes." He tightened his grip, breathing into Stiles' hair until Stiles squeaked and pushed out of the hug with a guilty smile.

"So, what are those two arguing about in there?" John nudged him conspiratorially.

The grin fell off Stiles' face and instantly John regretted the question.

"Me, or rather how to handle me," Stiles mumbled in resignation.

"Ahh. They seem to be doing that a lot lately."

"Yeah," Stiles replied miserably.

"You know, it's not your fault. They just have different ideas about how to help you."

Stiles let out a snort. "Yeah, Scott wants to hug it out and Derek wants to fight it out."

John recognized the tone in Stiles' voice. So he waited, because eventually Stiles would say more.

"It's just, Scott doesn't know. He doesn't understand." Stiles' hand clenched into a fist. "The things they made me see," he choked out. "The things I still see." A bitter laugh slipped out. "Every awful thing I've ever done. Everything. You know they made me relive that night over so many times I just couldn't cry about it anymore. I actually had no tears left."

The lump in John's throat felt like it was going to choke him and yet Stiles kept talking.

"I saw you, blaming me, over and over again. I mean, I knew, deep down, that you didn't, but you yelled at me, said it was all my fault, said it should have been me." Stiles' breath started hitching and John held his hand tighter.

"Then it was you in that bed, dying from liver failure and telling me I had driven you to drink, that I'd killed you just like her."

Tears slid silently down John's face and the pain in his chest was as bad as when Claudia had died. The mere thought of Stiles having these thoughts was killing John. He wanted to reach in and wipe them from Stiles' memory. But Stiles still kept talking.

"And then Scott. He was there, shouting, blaming me, telling me it was my fault he got bit, it was my fault all those people died. Our friends. The sacrifices. All of them. That if we'd never gone out that night, none of it would have happened."

Stiles stopped and turned to John, his face splotchy with red-rimmed tear-filled eyes and snot bubbling out of his nose. "What if he was right? What if all that stuff was my fault? If we'd never gone out that night –"

"Stop!" John ordered, yanking Stiles forward into an embrace, cradling Stiles' head against his chest. "None of that was your fault. None. Of. It. You hear me?" He cupped Stiles' face and pulled him back to look in his eyes. "Your mom died of cancer. Nothing any of us could have done would have stopped that. My biggest regret is that you were alone with her when it happened and somehow got it into your eight-year old head that it was your fault. Because there was nothing you could have done. Do you understand me? Nothing."

When Stiles nodded, he continued. "And if it hadn't been Scott? Peter would have bit someone else. Think about all the lives you saved _because_ it was Scott. If it had been anyone else, you wouldn't have known. So many more people would have died."

He wasn't sure Stiles was listening but he had to keep talking, if only to stop the sobs making Stiles shake against his chest.

"I love you son. I couldn't ask for a better son. You're smart, you're intelligent, you care. You _care_. You think Derek Hale would have come back for just anyone? Kid, I know that boy. He's got no reason to stay in this town, but he came back for you. I don't know what's going on there, but –"

"Derek understands the darkness," Stiles whispered. "More than anyone else ever could."

******************

After that night, things seemed to get better. It didn't happen overnight and it wasn't fast but there were small things that John noticed. The biggest was that Stiles started waking up less. Gradually, he became more animated with his friends, Scott included. The dark circles under his eyes grew lighter and the hollows in his cheeks grew fuller.

As Stiles came back to life, Derek seemed to shrink from it. John wasn't sure what exactly he and Scott had argued about that night, but whatever it was had Derek holing back up into his shell and pulling away from everyone. He still talked to Stiles and Allison, who had made good on Chris' word and called Derek. They were meeting a couple of times a week. She was the only one Derek really interacted with besides Stiles.

It hurt Stiles, John could see it in his eyes and one night, a few weeks later, John finally decided he'd had enough. He'd tried talking to Derek once before, it hadn't gone so well.

_When he walked through the door, he immediately felt the chill in the air. He found Derek in the kitchen reading the paper and he could hear Stiles upstairs banging around in his room._

_"Kicked you out did he?" he asked, joining Derek at the table._

_Derek just grunted but he folded the paper down._

_"Don't worry, he does that to me too. Just his way of showing how much he cares."_

_Derek let out a snort and John was pleased to see a hint of a smile on his face._

_"You're good for him. So thanks for putting up with him." When Derek didn't respond, John continued. "He's good for you too, I think."_

_That got a response. Derek raised his head and looked at John, his eyes flashing just a hint of blue._

_"Look, I think the time for bullshitting anyone has long past. Stiles has issues, you have issues, hell, we all have issues. You're good for him. He's good for you. Maybe, I don't know," he rubbed the back of his neck. "Talking might be good for you, for both of you, I mean, Stiles is getting better, you could too. I don't know. Just think about it. Talking to him or anyone. Think it over. Might exorcise some of the bad memories this town has for you if you share the good ones with someone."_

_Derek just grunted._

_"Great talk John, I'd give that a D-minus," he muttered to himself as he walked up the stairs to check on Stiles._

That conversation echoed in his head as he jogged up the stairs to see if he could catch Derek before he left. He was going to try again. Or at least he was until he heard voices coming from Stiles' room. Sounded like Stiles had beat him to the punch.

He wasn't planning on eavesdropping but Stiles' said something that made him pause.

"You're leaving, aren't you?" Stiles' voice sounded accusatory and dull, resigned even.

"No. Maybe. I don't know."

"What happened with Scott?"

"Nothing."

Stiles snorted. "I don't have to be a werewolf to know that's a lie. You've been different for weeks now, ever since that horrible fight you had with Scott, which incidentally was the same night I finally talked to my Dad, so um, thanks?"

Derek huffed. "It's nothing, Stiles."

"Bullshit. If it were nothing, you wouldn't be looking like he kicked your puppy every time he's around. What happened?"

"I said it's nothing."

"Fine. I'll just ask him then."

There was a bit of rustling and John figured Stiles was pulling out his phone.

"Don't. Please."

John winced at the vulnerable tone in Derek's voice, at the hurt that was so clear.

"Der, what did Scott say to you?" Stiles asked quietly. "Please?"

"Nothing he hasn't said before. Nothing that isn't true."

"Jesus, he really is an idiot sometimes," Stiles said.

John could hear the frustration in his voice, pictured Stiles running his hand through his hair, scratching at the back of his neck.

"You are not the worst Alpha and I really wish Scott would stop saying that shit to you. What happened to me was not your fault. If anything, it was his. We went out there to meet the Sidhe without any preparation. They had no idea that I'd be plagued with nightmares if they killed the one that gave them to me. That's on Scott. Nobody else."

"But if I'd been here –"

"No!" Stiles interrupted him. "No, you needed to leave. I still can't believe you came back. After what happened? And you had to get Cora away from the twins. Jesus, they held her captive, who knows what the fuck they did to her, to any of them. And Scott forgives them and offers them a place in his pack."

John could hear the venom in Stiles' voice.

"Yeah, he told me," Derek said bitterly.

"You argued about that too, didn't you?" Stiles asked softly.

"I might have warned him about them, yeah."

"And of course he didn't listen because he's an idealistic son of a bitch that likes to think we live in a perfect world. What they did was unforgivable. Why the hell do you think Allison is dating Isaac now? She worked hard to get back into our good graces and what she did paled in comparison to what they did. And they haven't done shit to redeem themselves. Well, Aiden hasn't. Ethan –"

Stiles' stopped talking and John heard movement, knew Stiles had to have stood up and started pacing. "Ethan is a different story. I think he honestly wants to be forgiven, wants to make up for it, but Aiden holds him back. And out of some fucked up twin loyalty, well, let's just say, where Aiden goes, so does Ethan."

There was another pause and John knew his son well enough to know that he'd probably stopped at the desk, staring at the wall, his eyes shifting over to the picture of Claudia and then the one of him and Scott when they were ten. "He's my brother and I love him," Stiles rasped out, voice choked with sadness and love all at the same time. "But sometimes he does some things that I just don't understand. I just don't get it. I mean, how he could, after what they, and then for him to tell me he understood what I was going through."

There was a rustling of fabric and a groan that must have come from Derek. John peeked around the corner and watched as Stiles wrapped himself around Derek, tucking his face into Derek's neck. "He had no idea. He just, he's too good, you know? Too innocent. Too Pollyanna to really get it."

Stiles pulled back, his hands gripping Derek's biceps. "You were the one that saved me, that brought me back from the darkness. If it hadn't been for you…" his voice trailed off and John had to swallow over the lump of fear and sadness in his own throat.

Derek's broke Stiles' hold on him and drew him back in for a hug. "I wouldn't have let that happen," he whispered, his lips pressing a kiss into Stiles' hair.

"Will you stay? Please?"

And John knew he was asking for more than just one night.

"There's a lot of darkness we could help each other face."

"I don't have –"

"Please, I know that's why you were planning to leave. I've learned the hard way you can't run from yourself." Stiles tilted his head back so he could look at Derek. "So will you? Stay?"

John could see the options warring on Derek's face, knew his son was asking Derek to do more then just stay.

"Y-" Derek's voice broke and he coughed, tried to clear it, his hands tightening their grip on Stiles' shirt. "Yeah, I'll stay."

John moved away, barely catching Stiles' whispered 'thank you', knowing his voice was muffled because his face was buried in Derek's neck again. Quietly he made his way down the hall toward the spare bedroom, his heart feeling lighter than it had in months.

Things were far from perfect. Both Derek and Stiles had a lot of issues to deal with, but as John dug into his pocket and laid a key on the dresser, he was confident they would work through them together. All of them.

He went back to Stiles' door and knocked. "Boys, how about pizza for dinner? Derek, I had a key made, laid it on the dresser in your bedroom. Seeing as how you're going to be staying for a while, figured you should be able to come and go as you please. Stiles, close your mouth, you're gonna catch flies like that. Two larges enough?"

He was halfway down the stairs before Stiles sputtered after him. "Veggie, one of them has to be veggie."

"Stiles, let your Dad live a little," Derek chided him.

"What… gah… but he… fine."

John smiled to himself. Yup, things were going to work out just fine.

 

_By blood and by me, I'll fall when you leave.  
By blood and by me, I'll follow your lead._

_Possibility – Lykke Li_

**The End**

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I like Twilight. There I said it. It's fun, escapist entertainment – basically why I read and write fanfic. The scene/part that STILL gets me every single time is in New Moon after Edward leaves Bella and you turn the page and all you see is "October" and then "November" and just nothing. It feels like a punch to the chest and the gut at the same time. The film editing for that part was exquisite – you can find it [Here](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g4gEFZ0TJ8o)
> 
> After numerous readings and viewings, that is the one image that has stuck with me. Doing a recent rewatch with my hubs (who is TEAM EDWARD – srsly so wrong LOL) I pictured Stiles in that chair, staring out into nothing and wondered, what would put him there. And that's how this story was born. *Hint* It's NOT what you think…


End file.
